Be Careful What You Wish For
by Dreamcatcher38
Summary: Three items in a box are what remain of the time that Hungary loved Prussia. A wildflower that got him his first kiss, a bit of white fabric from defending it, and a lock of hair that reminds him to be careful what he wishes for. And what does a magic child have to do with it? PruHun one shots, and a touch of AusHun if you squint. Rated T for Prussia.
1. Introduction

_Welcome! What follows are a series of PrussiaxHungary one-shots for a larger "Choose your own Adventure" on another site. But I figured you'd all over here would enjoy a little PruHun._

_**Title: **Be Careful What You Wish For_

_**Summary:** Three items in a little white box are all that remain of the time that Hungary loved Prussia. A withered wildflower that got him his first kiss, a bloodied bit of white fabric from defending it, and a lock of golden hair that reminds him to be careful what he wishes for. And what does a young magic child have to do with it all? 3 PruHun one shots, and a touch of AusHun if you squint._

_**Chapter Summary: **The following is a bit of an introduction from part of the HetaVenture to give you a little background for the one shots. From Italy's POV. One shots will be told from Prussia's._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

_Italy's Point of View_

You stand and follow Prussia, clumsily tripping over objects you can't see in the dark. Finally reaching the bedroom, Prussia flicks on the light. The bedroom, surprisingly to you, is extremely neat and organized, the bed sheets even tucked in. Though you slowly realize as you look around that Prussia is German after all.

On the dresser in a slim vase sits a single red rose, blooming as bright and full as the day it was given, a small tag tied loosely to the stem. Upon closer inspection the tag has two words inscribed on it in loopy letters; _Liebe, Lizzie_. Prussia notices your wandering eyes.

"Over here, Ita," Prussia chides, and you turn to face him. From somewhere he has procured a small white box, a Prussian ensign stamped to the side. He hands it to you.

Lifting the lid, you look inside to find three items. The first is a small, withered wildflower, its center black from which protrudes frail yellow petals, faded marks of red bleeding from the center into the petals. The second is a small bloodstained piece of white fabric, its edges torn and frayed, the crimson red stains patterning it in smears and splotches.

It's the final item in the box, however, that catches the breath in your throat. The third item in the box is a small curling lock of fiercely golden hair. The sight of it awakes memories in your mind of unruly strands sticking defiantly out from a golden rimmed hat.

You look up to see Prussia lying on the bed, his head resting on a pile of black and white pillows, and his crimson eyes watch you as you look over the items in the box, your own staring back wide-eyed.

"Each of those items has a story," Prussia almost whispers, his eyes closed. "This," he points to his silver hair, "used to be that golden, and these," he points to his haunting crimson eyes, "used to be as blue as bruder's. That flower got me my first kiss. And that piece of cloth is all that remains of defending it."

* * *

**Translations: **(I'm sorry if I butcher anything, I have to rely on google translate, and a bit of common sense.)

**German:**

_Liebe - _Love.


	2. Story of the flower

_Welcome to the first one-shot, told from Prussia's POV._**  
**

_**Chapter Summary: **Prussia's known for a while that Hungary was actually a girl, and is having a hard time coming to terms with how he feels about it. But matters are only made worse when she begins to realize her gender herself, and Prussia feels he must find some way to protect her from the freaks who want to change her from the person he loves most. With the help of a magic child, will he be able to get Hungary to love him, and whisk her away from aristocratic hands?  
_

_The flower used is a black-eyed Susan, in case anyone is interested._

* * *

_Flashback_

A young Prussia sits in a meadow next to a shallow pool, his white uniform dirty and grass-stained as usual. His golden locks shine in the dappled sunlight that fights its way through the densely packed trees of the forest as it sets, and his sapphire eyes reflecting in the water. Behind them races dangerous thoughts, sparkling memories of glimpses of copper hair and emerald eyes, and a sudden gut wrenching realization.

"Ah!" he cries, and awkwardly drawing his sword, throws it across the meadow in show of misplaced emotion. It lands, sticking up in the grass. He'd known she was a girl for some time now, ever since that skirmish with Turkey, but she was finally figuring it out herself, and somehow, that made things worse? No, that didn't seem right. It made everything better. It made things… possible?

"This is NOT awesome," he grumbles. "Ich liebe Ungarn."

He didn't understand what he was feeling. Hungary was his best friend, no matter whether she was a girl or not, and that was a lesson Uncle Rome had been quick to teach him. Boys grow up to love girls, but you don't love your friends, it doesn't end well. But he was at a loss to explain what he was feeling as anything else.

He would do anything for her to like him in the same regard, save her from all the boys creeping in to sweep her off her feet as she comes to terms with her identity. All the freaks who wanted to change her; shape her into what she was supposed to be instead of who she was. He was perfectly happy with the way she was; confident, bold, strong, defensive, an excellent shot… Not a stuffy housewife, or someone's property, or a trophy prize.

Suddenly the bushes next to him rustled, and he shot up, half crawling, half scrambling over to where his sword sat stuck up in the ground. Tugging on the hilt, he frantically tried to yank it out and struggles, it stuck too fast. He immediately regretted throwing the thing.

Luckily, out of the bushes stepped a small child, years younger than Prussia, toddling a little as it walked, a much too large green cloak dragging behind it and completely covering its head. The older of the two froze, surprized by the sight, and the child looked up at him to reveal dazzling ocean blue eyes.

"What are you doing out here? Aren't you afraid of the awesome me?" Prussia asks, trying to look as intimidating as his still slightly childish self would allow.

"I came because you're sad. Because you need help," the small child said softly, his voice high and squeaky.

"What? I'm fine. The awesome me doesn't need help from you," Prussia yelled, dismissing the child and returning to trying to pull the sword out of the ground. It showing no signs of budging, the child extends his hand out towards the older nation, and the tip of the sword begins to glow bright blue.

"Whoa. Mein Gott…" Prussia mutters, frantically backing away from the now completely glowing sword. Slowly, it rises out of the ground and lays flat down on top of it on its side. The glow fades with a whisper of the wind.

"My Dad kinda showed me some tricks," the little child says slowly. "Papa wasn't too happy about it, but he usually doesn't care too much."

"Who im namen Gottes are you?" Prussia asks, terrified, though he would never admit it.

"Um… Dad says I shouldn't tell my name to strangers," the small child whispers sheepishly. "But I can help you. I know a spell that will help her love you."

Prussia's eyes widened incredulously. "How did you-" he began, but was cut off by the child.

"You said it out loud, dummy," the child laughed innocently. "I. Love. Hungary."

"Oh," Prussia said, a slight flush creeping into his face, the moon had crept over the tree tops, lighting the meadow and the child's pale hair in a whitewash.

"So, can I help you?" the child smiled, excited.

Prussia considered it, reaching for his sword and sheathing it. It seemed fine. And really, he could use any help he could get saving his Hungary from the hands of those freaks.

"Fine, what can you do? It better be awesome," he demands.

Delighted, the child squeals before reaching out both hands towards the older boy. "Okay, just stand really still and think really, really hard about her. Don't let anything interrupt your thoughts."

"I will do so and awesomely," the young Prussia says, closing his sapphire eyes. He slowly let his mind fill with thoughts of her; her soft copper hair, the delight in her emerald eyes, the blood rushing beneath her small, soft lips… His breath caught, and a glowing pentagram swirled on the ground beneath him.

The child began to chant, "Hic amare mendacium, rubens et virent, ut spiritus saltus dirige eam deinceps ad rosa, vento susurri ad mentis et cor Hungariae, et eam accipere quod est expectantes in pratum, fata et fatum transverse aeternum…"

Prussia let his mind wander where he often stopped it, to thoughts of her gently curving sides, the flush in her chest after running, the ferocity in her voice, the feeling of her head lying gently on his chest, his hand in hers…

And suddenly he was asleep on the floor of the meadow, his white cape blowing gently in the warm midnight wind, the pentagram fading, and the child running back into the forest.

Prussia awoke the next morning to the sound of his crush's voice.

"Good morning, álomszuszék," Hungary said, her voice like an angel. "Seriously, Gil, did you spend the whole night out here?"

Opening his eyes, and turning to face the source of the sound, he could only stare. Sitting up, his eyes took her in, almost ravishingly. She had chosen to wear a dress, and one that flattered her curves greatly at that, and it spread out on the grass around her. It brought delight to his heart however to see a pair of familiar combat boots poke out from under the frilly hem, but the ever so slightly revealing neckline made his heart race faster, just barely enough of a tease. Quickly looking up to meet her gaze, he took in the sight of her copper hair framing her perfect face.

"W-what?" she asked nervously, wrapping her arms around her middle, suddenly extremely self-conscious. A long strand of her hair fell out from behind her ear and into her face.

He shakes his head and says, "Wait… hold on."

Breaking her gaze he crawls over to the bank of the river where some wildflowers were growing. Picking a bright yellow flower with slim petals, red bleeding out from the dark middle, he brings it back and tucks it behind her ear, holding back the hair from her face.

"Oh," she says softly, touching his hand there, and a rush races through his body. He quickly pulls away, the wind the only thing breaking the silence.

"So," she begins. "I'm a girl."

"Just figured that out now, did you? Kesesesesese," he laughs. She throws him a quizzical glance.

"The awesome me noticed," he says. "So how's that working out for you?"

She's quiet and still for a moment, and he worries he's said the wrong thing.

"I'm not sure yet." He can see the ferocity he so loves in her eyes. He looks away, hoping she won't see the flush in his face.

"Anything awesome I can do to help you with that? You know, slay some dragons, beat up some stalkers, reclaim some vital regions?" he asks, his implications lost to him.

"Actually, yes," she says, smiling mischievously, leaning in closer to him. The action makes his heart race and he freezes, his eyes locked with hers. He searches in them for some answer to her actions, but he doesn't find it quick enough.

She raises her hands to his face, and his head in her hands, pulls him towards her. They're noses almost touching, she just looks into his sapphire eyes, her breathing ragged and quick, a mischievous grin still cutting across her face. His breathing is still, trapped in his throat, confused. He can't remember how to breathe; all he can remember is her.

Her emerald eyes fluttering shut, she brings her lips to meet his, and he's confused for a moment before his heart takes over and his eyelids set over his own sapphire eyes, giving in to her kiss. She breaks away too quick, like she just wanted a taste, her eyes searching his for a reaction.

Remembering how to breathe, Prussia takes a couple deep breaths before sighing out one word. "Awesome."

"Oh, Gil," Hungary laughs.

"Hungary," he replies curtly, his trademark grin cutting across his face. He leaned in towards her again, and snaking an arm around her waist, begins to lay her softly down on the grass behind her, and she smiles.

"Erzsébet," she corrects.

Crawling up next to her, he leans over her face. "How 'bout Lizzie?"

Not giving her the chance to reply, he kisses her, this time more roughly, more heatedly. She reaches her arms up, and entwines them behind his neck, her fingers stroking his sun kissed hair. He strokes her copper strands as he kisses her, and he doesn't want it to end.

But it does, and pushing him up, she tackles him, her skirts flying wildly, almost as if she's forgotten them all together. Laughing, they tangle as they roll, wrestling like they always do.

"Kesesesesese, you fight like a girl," Prussia teases.

"Hahaha, I am one," Hungary mutters, pinning him to the ground. A quick flip of her leg, and he's on top of her.

"Doesn't mean I'll go any easier on you," he says. Lifting her head up, her lips meet his, and she pushes him over, regaining the advantage.

"I didn't ask you to," she breathes, unlatching his cape at his throat, the mess of white fabric having become tangled between them.

"That's cheating," he grumbles, pulling the cape free and flipping her over, her head inches from the pond, the tips of her copper hair sinking to the shallow bottom.

"No it's not," she whispers.

"Two can play that game." Leaning in, he kisses her again, and he can feel her lips smile beneath his.

With that she places her hands on each of his shoulders, and bringing her knee up to his stomach, she breaks the kiss and throws him up and over her head, into the pond.

With a small splash, Lizzie shields her face from the flying mud that splatters her dress, and a frog bounds across the clearing in terror.

"Ugh!" Prussia cries standing up, his golden hair brown with mud. He's completely drenched.

Hungary stands up and turns to face him, appraising the condition of her own clothing, that was now sufficiently streaked with mud and grass stains.

"What im Namen von allem was heilig ist was that for?" Prussia exclaims, his accent rich with German, as he climbs out of the water onto the grass.

"Cheating," Hungary replies simply. She turns her face away, embarrassed. "I-I should go change. Maybe you should too." She admired the way the white fabric clung awkwardly to him.

Looking into his eyes, she rested her hands on his damp chest, kissing his mud streaked cheek. Turning to leave, he grabbed her strong wrist, pulling her back and kissing her lips one last time.

Breaking it, he drops her hand, and lets her turn to leave, watching as she runs, in no manner ladylike, into the forest.

"Szeretlek, Gilbert!" she calls back to him.

"Ich liebe dich, Lizzie."

He stands in the clearing a moment longer, retrieving his cape, wrapping it around his dripping shape. The leaves rustle, and he turns, thinking she might be back, but finds the small child, his ocean eyes looking back widely, a smile cut across his face.

"Kesesese," Prussia laughs. "Again."

* * *

**Translations: **(sorry if I butchered any of this, I have to rely on google translate and a bit of common sense)

**German:**

_Ich liebe Ungarn_ - I love Hungary

_Mein Gott - _My God...

_im namen Gottes - _In the name of God

_im Namen von allem was heilig ist - _In the name of all that is Holy

_Ich liebe dich - _I love you

**Hungarian:**

_álomszuszék - _Sleepyhead

_Erzsébet - _Elizabeth

_Szeretlek - _I love you


	3. Story of the piece of fabric

_Welcome to the second one-shot, told from Prussia's POV._

_**Chapter Summary** - Prussia and Hungary must attend Austria's banquet, and with the help of the magic child, Prussia is determined to keep her away from the likes of Austria and France. Naturally, things do not go smoothly, and while the spell works, Hungary's still not quite used to being a lady just yet. Raging hormones, sword fighting, kissing, corsets, and more! and Fluff... so much fluff...  
_

_Note: you might want to avoid reading some of the translations if you have issue with swearing. But this is rated T after all..._

* * *

_Flashback_

The magic child came many times, delighted to put his skills to use, and a young Prussia gladly walking away with what he got out of it. But older nation slowly felt himself growing weaker with each cast of the spell, his head spinning, but he dismissed it as un-awesome nerves.

He clutched a pinch in his side awkwardly as he paced, fighting against showing signs of weakness in front of the small child, just as Vati Germania had taught him. Never show signs of weakness in front of a potential enemy. But the ache was getting worse, and to add fuel to the fire, Prussia was starting to get a fiercely annoying headache behind his sapphire eyes. Rubbing them slightly, he sat in the meadow in front of the magic child with ocean blue eyes.

"There's a banquet tonight," Prussia began telling the child. "A silly thing, being proper and all that nonsense and I normally wouldn't enjoy a minute of having to spend time with those stuffy faces, especially Austria…" At the mention of the name, Prussia growled a little bit. His Hungary found the other nation to be adorable. Prussia just saw him as weak. "Anyways," Prussia continued. "Lizzie has to go too, since Austria's hosting, so maybe we can come up with something to make the night… less mind numbingly not-awesome?"

"Why don't you just play pranks?" the child asked. "Isn't that what you usually do?"

"Yeah," Prussia started, sighing at a happy memory. "But I don't really want her to get into trouble. I mean, everyone's been so hard on her as it is, with her being a girl now and everything."

"Well, what won't get her into trouble?" the small child inquired.

"There has to be a way to keep her out of the arms of all those freaks…" Prussia trailed off, lost in his own world.

"Will there be dancing? Like at the ball? Isn't that how the prince sweeps the princess off her feet?" The child cocked his head to the side, questioning.

Prussia snapped out of his thought bubble. "You really are quite clever, aren't you?" Standing, Prussia patted the child's pale blond head before returning to pacing.

"Well, with being mostly ignored by my parents, I read a lot," the child explained.

"Yes, yes, do you have a spell that will make me good at dancing?" Prussia asked, ignoring the side topic.

"How bad are you?" the child asked.

"So many questions!" Prussia exclaimed. "That's not awesome. And of course I'd be the most awesome dancer there ever was if I actually had taken the time to learn…"

"Ah, well then, I think I might have something, though you're going to have to imagine dancing with her…" The child looked hesitant.

"There is nothing the awesome me can't do!" Prussia cried, his just slightly too long golden hair flying in his face. He closed his sapphire eyes and thought of dancing, the careful steps Vati had once tried to teach him, but Prussia had ignored. He imagined the way his arm would fit under Lizzie's, how they would lead each other around the dance floor. He pictured the envious faces of the aristocrats around him, and how he would just smile smugly and get lost in her emerald eyes.

"Waltz, Agnus, Foxtrot, accipiens quae tardus, nos non tempore ad discere nos, ut vocem ventus servare tempus ut turbo, et verrunt domina Hungariae pedibus…" the child chanted, his face scrunched in concentration, his hands outstretched towards Prussia.

Suddenly Prussia found himself recalling the steps as if he had known them his entire life. His arms raised and he began to spin an imaginary Hungary around the meadow, carefully sidestepping obstacles as if they were other dancers. As the glow faded with the forest wind, Prussia's bright eyes opened and he stopped spinning.

His trademark grin split across his face, and turning to the child, he said, "You are awesome. And that is saying something coming from the awesome me."

The child just smiled innocently back, before running into the forest.

That night, Prussia stood in an elegant ballroom, appraising the stiff, white monstrosity he was forced to wear. _Why is everything always white…_ he thought to himself. Although he had to admit that he did look pretty awesome. Heavy, white dress pants fell to his polished black shoes, a buttoned white military jacket with black highlights. His sword slung low on his hip, and his white cape emblazoned with a black cross draped itself around his neck and thin shoulders. He fingered the matching black cross hanging around his neck as he tousled his golden hair.

"What the hell am I doing?" he muttered quietly to himself, but then heard the announcement of an arrival, and turned to see _her._

She stood elegantly at the top of the grand staircase on the arm of her boss, dressed in a wide-skirted, forest green ballroom gown that alighted her emerald eyes. Her copper hair softly covered her bare shoulders, and she looked like the queen of the forest. _Which she certainly is,_ Prussia couldn't help but think. Her arrival caught the attention of the entire ballroom that settled into silence and just watched. And like nothing had ever changed, she unlinked herself from her boss' arm, and marched down the steps without a care for who was watching.

When she reached the bottom, she surveyed the crowd with a level-headed stare, her hands on her hips, and the crowd went back to mingling and dancing. Prussia just continued the stand there, mouth slightly agape, completely in awe. While a significant portion of his brain was completely focussed on remembering the graceful curve of her side in the corset down to her wide hips and perhaps was a little too attentive to the surprisingly revealing neckline of the dress, the remaining portion was of tripping over itself at just how much he loved her fierce audacity. Prussia watched her walk through the landing into the ballroom.

"What der heilige Hölle _am_ I thinking?" Prussia asked himself again, but watched as she tried to settle into one of the frail chairs by the wall, the stiff armrests fluffing her skirt into her lap awkwardly. She looked flustered as she tried to unsuccessfully sort them. _Kesesesese_, Prussia couldn't help but laugh to himself.

From across the room, Prussia spotted a certain French man with a glass of wine precariously perched in one hand, and the other twirling a lock of his long blond hair. The German nation noted that France's eyes lingered a little too long on his queen of the forest as she struggled to get comfortable. He could practically hear the sly _on hon hon_ of his laughter from across the room.

On the other side, Prussia could spot the young Austria, clean, elegant, and stuffy, chatting with guests of his banquet. But his eyes too flickered over every once and again to Hungary, the intent behind the glances not lost on Prussia.

"I know exactly what the awesome me was thinking," Prussia muttered to himself as he quickly crossed the floor to where his Lizzie was perched on the chair. It was now or never to sweep her off her feet, before any of those freaks got to her. She was talking to another pretty girl in red, nodding politely in their conversation, but Prussia knew by the slight slump of her shoulders that his Lizzie was bored out of her mind. She kept kicking her feet restlessly under her dress. Trying awkwardly to be the gentleman he wasn't, he walked up to her.

"Oh," Hungary said, noticing him suddenly and fighting to keep the blush out of her cheeks. "Prussia."

"Lady Hungary," he said curtly, bowing slightly to her. After a sly glance at him, the girl in red giggled foolishly, and walked away.

"Clearly can't handle the awesome," Prussia crossed his arms, dropping the gentleman act. Hungary just shook her head.

"These átok shoes," Hungary swore in her native tongue. "I should just take them off and hide them somewhere… it's not like anyone's going to see my feet under this hülye tent."

"This fancy schiss is never awesomely comfortable," Prussia swore back, picking at the sleeves of his uniform. In his nervousness, he abused his favourite word. Leaning over to reach her shoes, Hungary suddenly clutched her abdomen, pain cutting across her face. Prussia was at her side in an instant, panicking.

"Ahhhh… Szarik, duma, fasz, fasz, fasz, fasz, kibaszott corset!" Hungary cried out in colourful Hungarian, thankfully only loud enough for the two of them to hear. She quickly leaned back, and Prussia couldn't help but notice her chest heave as she breathed heavily.

"Well, it makes you look pretty," Prussia suggested, trying to cheer her up. However the glare she gave him at the comment would have sent Austria scurrying under his beloved piano.

"What?" he asked nonchalantly, his trademark smirk creeping onto his face, not terrified of her in the least. "Am I not allowed to appreciate its benefits?"

"I hate you," she breathed lethally under her breath, glaring daggers into him and balling her hands into frustrated fists.

"Alright, alright," he sighed, raising his hands in surrender and kneeling down on one knee in front of her. "Bad start. Here, I'll help."

Cautiously lifting the hem of her dress, he grabbed her ankle and slipped off the shoes with what he would say was awesome skill. He handed her the confusing mess of straps and buckles.

"Here." Taking the shoes, Hungary dumped them behind one of the plants next to the seating area. Seeing Prussia kneeing in front of her, his fingers on the hem of her skirt, Hungary's boss walked by, tutting and lightly smacking Prussia on the back of the head.

"Hey!" the German nation called, rubbing the back of his head.

"Sajnálat," she said softly, apologizing. Standing, Prussia dusted himself off and noticed a slightly tipsy France heading their way.

"Let's say we stay out of trouble, just this once," Prussia mumbled quickly. Coughing slightly first, he extended his hand to her and said, "Lady Hungary, would you care to dance?"

Hungary almost couldn't contain her laughter. "Since when do you dance?"

Without giving a response, Prussia lifted her from the chair and twirled her onto the dance floor. A song had just ended and couples stood around clapping.

"Um… how does one even do this dancing thing?" she asked. Without word, Prussia carefully placed her arm on his shoulder, and took her other hand in his, placing his other hand on her back, just as he had imagined. However, he had guessed how he would feel about it all wrong. It was almost like euphoria as he held her in his arms, and he felt… possessive. He tried to drive the feeling away. As the music started, he began to lead her around the dance floor.

"I know you don't like people leading you," he began, whispering into her ear. "But just let me do the work until you catch on, alright?"

"With you, I don't really mind," she whispered, and leaned her head on his chest, closing her emerald eyes, letting him twirl them around the other dancing nations. "You're actually quite good at this. And you don't treat me like I'm some silly fragile thing, unlike my boss." Smiling, Prussia gently kissed the top of her head, and lost himself, not noticing the lethal glances of France and Austria on either side of the ballroom.

The song ended, and they pulled apart to applaud Austria's brilliant orchestration. Prussia had to give the aristocrat that, he made freaking beautiful music.

"Another?" he asked quietly, and she nodded, slipping back into his arms. He led her again, with a second-natured grace that was so unlike him. But after a few moments, he could help but notice her gasping breathing, and she clung a little tighter to his hand.

Concerned, he asked, "Are you alright?"

She lifted her head off his chest and he noticed how pale she looked. She just gave a frail nod, and immediately Prussia knew she was not alright. Lizzie was never weak, or at least, she would never show it. She protected her strength like the boy she used to think she was. He twirled them to the side of the room and stopped, his arms around her waist helping to hold her up, as her legs gave out and she clung to his shoulders.

"Don't lie to me, Lizzie," he said to her, looking into her eyes that fought to remain composed, his face serious. "What's wrong?"

Dropping all her composure, she gasped, and dug her fingernails into his shoulder. Her eyes were frantic.

"Gil," she stuttered out. "Gil, I can't breathe."

Prussia quickly scanned her trying to figure out why. Then he realized.

"The corset?" he asked, looking into her eyes for the answer, and found it before she nodded in response.

"Too… tight," she stammered between shallow breaths. Pulling her close, he kissed her so she would hold her breath and not strain on the laces at the back of her dress. He could feel her grip on his shoulders loosen and her hand slipped down to his chest.

Working quickly, he tugged at the ends of the tight bow, and it fell apart. His fingers then pulled at the lacing, frantically trying to loosen the binding.

Hungary broke the kiss and breathed quickly, Prussia feeling the corset move beneath his hand with her frantic breaths. He shuddered as his fingers brushed the bare skin of her lower back trying to untangle his fingers from the laces, Hungary breathing deeply.

After a heartbeat, they met each other's eyes, his sapphire ones full of concern, and her emerald ones full of something Prussia didn't expect. They were filled with mischief.

Grabbing his face in a split second decision, she pulled him down to her lips and kissed him roughly and greedily, and he relished in the taste of her lips, chocolate and cinnamon. His hands slipped down to her hips, and hers into his golden hair, clinging to him for all it was worth. His fingers played with the ribbons of her loosened corset. They barely paused to breathe when they were rudely interrupted by a screeching Austria.

"What, in the name of Chopin, do you think you are doing!" Austria cried, an almost hurt expression on his face. But Prussia had fought him often enough to also sense the fear.

Hungary's eagle eyes pierced the aristocrat. "Austria…" she trailed.

"_Mon ami_ is obviously _amoureux,_" France explained to the Austrian, coming out of nowhere. "Do not spoil this show of _amour!_ Even if _Prusse_ is going about it all wrong."

"I'll say," Austria added, shuddering. "He undid the laces on her dress! It's so… vulgar."

"No, Austria, he-" Hungary tried to explain, but was cut off by France. Prussia just held her hand, trying to control his urge to punch Austria in the face.

"_Onhonhon_, so ze boy fancies a little _je ne sais quoi_," France began. " '_ongrie_ is blooming into a _belle femme_! Certainly _Prusse_ is not ze only one who noticed."

Prussia, Austria, and Hungary all turned an alarming shade of red.

"Can you not see he's taking advantage of her bloody predicament, you frog?" England suddenly interjected in Austria's defence, but most likely just to fight with France. Austria made a peculiar squeaking noise. By this point, most of the crowd was watching the fight.

"_Angleterre,_ I do not judge ze actions of passion," France replied, flipping his hair. Prussia had officially lost it at this point. Dropping Hungary's hand, he stepped in front of her protectively, even though he'd hear it from her later to no end.

"If I may be so bold as to speak for my awesome self," he began, his voice a little threatening. "I undid the laces on her corset because she couldn't breathe, verdammt, and all because she had to wear this insane thing to _your_ schiss party." He pointed at Austria.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe it's _your_ fault for not being careful enough with her when you were dancing?" Austria exclaimed. "This isn't fighting or hunting, Prussia. Hungary's a lady now, whether you like it or not, and needs to be treated more care and gentleness." Hungary just looked on their fight, her face confusion stricken, not entire sure who was right.

"Arschloch!" Prussia swore loudly. "This is what I was trying to protect her from! I don't care if she's a girl now, she should still be able to do whatever der heilige Hölle she wants! She wants to wear breeches and go hunting or wrestle or fight or _be awesome_? Fine by the awesome me! She's still Hungary. She's still my Lizzie. And, verdammt, I love her the way she is, and I'm not going to let you change her awesome because you want her to be a lady!"

"Gilbert," Hungary whispered, and loosening his clenched fist with her touch and holding his hand. She kissed his cheek as his head dropped with exhaustion from his confession.

"Come on, Lizzie. We don't have to tolerate his kuhscheiße," Prussia almost whispered, tugging on her arm and moving to leave. "Unless you want to beat his un-awesome excuse for a nation, I'm not objecting to that either…"

Prussia watched Hungary's eyes dart to her boss, who was looking on disapprovingly.

"We'll get him later, now's not the best time," Hungary whispered into his ear.

"Fine. Let's go."

The two made for the exit, but with a _shling_ of metal on metal, their path was blocked by Austria's sword. The crowd gasped in surprise.

"You, sir, are more than welcome to leave, but she's not going anywhere. I'm sorry, Erzsé, but he's confusing you for his own selfish pursuits. Stay, and we'll be more than happy to teach you what it means to be a lady," Austria almost snapped.

Hungary's strength held them back, but both nations knew she was on the brink of tears, even though you couldn't hear it in her voice. "How do I know you're right, Roddy, and not Gil?"

"The awesome me? Selfish? Look at you!" Prussia cried, drawing his own sword. "Wanting to change her into what you want her to be!"

"I only want to help her become what society _expects_ her to be," Austria lectured.

Angry, Prussia thrust out his sword at Austria, who expertly parried it with one hand on his back.

"If I have to fight to protect her, then so be it," Prussia said through gritted teeth. "You can never handle my awesomeness anyways."

"Boys!" Hungary tried to stop them, but Hungary knew by the smirk on Prussia's face that the fight was inevitable. And she sat back to watch, knowing this was Prussia's fight and not hers.

Seeing an advantage, Austria thrust forward, but was parried by Prussia. The exchange went back and forth, until Prussia landed a slight scratch on Austria's exposed arm behind his back. Grimacing slightly, Austria took advantage of Prussia being distracted by Hungary to land a heavy blow to his exposed thigh. Thick red blood poured down his white pants.

"Schiss!" Prussia swore, grabbing at the gash. He lunged forward wildly, and landed two blows to Austria's side, gaining the upper hand. Prussia could see the fear in his adversary's eyes, his face paling as he lost blood. Austria kept up the fight, but Prussia knew in a couple blows, he would have the aristocrat pinned. That's when things took an unexpected turn. A new sword left a scratch on Prussia's blood splattered face, and both nations looked to see France at the end of it.

"_Pardon, Prusse, _but I must agree with _Autriche._"

Taking a few steps back, Prussia successfully held back both swords, but inevitably fell victim to a stab to the side by France, and one to the shoulder by Austria. Prussia knew he was losing too much blood, and he should concede, but he kept fighting, knowing that Hungary's future depended on him winning. He managed to leave a rather deep gash down the side of Austria's leg, sending the nation toppling to the floor. With ease, Prussia parried France's defense of the fallen nation, and sent the sword flying out of the Frenchman's hand. His sword came to down to Austria's throat. Hungary came rushing to Prussia's side.

"Hell of a fight, Gil. You alright? You made your point." Hungary muttered, wiping the blood off his face. She turned to Austria, helping him up, not caring about getting blood on her dress. "Remember what I said about the practice?"

But they were interrupted when Prussia felt a sword poke into his back.

"I hate to agree with the bloody frog, but I think Hungary should at least be educated before she makes her own decision. I can't let you leave with her," England said.

With Austria back on his feet, and France having regained his sword, it was now three against one. Prussia wiped some of the blood from his face with his sleeve, soaking the white fabric red.

"Bring it losers!" Prussia cried, charging forward. But it was a losing battle and both Prussia and Hungary knew it.

"Gil, you don't have to do this," Hungary cried, but he ignored her.

With a steady hand, England easily laid two more blows on the Prussian, another to his side, and one to his sword arm that had been dangerously close to hitting his neck. As Prussia parried blows from England and France, Austria snuck the opportunity to gash the inside of Prussia's other leg, sending him tumbling to the ground. Standing over him, Austria jabbed his sword into Prussia's shoulder and twisted, 'causing the other German nation to writhe on the floor in pain. Prussia bit his tongue, but the pain was visible on his face. His vision narrowed, and he knew he was close to blacking out from blood loss. Austria almost laughed maniacally with glee of finally beating Prussia, even if he had needed help to do it.

"Austria, that's enough," Hungary begged, rushing to Prussia's side. "Roddy, RODERICH!"

Austria stopped, pulling out his bloody sword and turned to face her, adjusting his red smeared glasses. Prussia could barely make out the glare that Hungary was giving them, but it was one he knew too well. As he blinked out of consciousness, the last thing he saw was his Lizzie beating the three opposing nations with a frying pan, a gleeful smirk smeared across her face, and crimson blood staining the hem of her dress.

* * *

**Translations: **(sorry if I butcher anything... I have to rely on google translate and a bit of common sense!)

**German:**

_Vati - _Daddy

_der heilige Hölle - _the Holy Hell

_schiss - _shit

_verdammt - _damn

_Arschloch - _asshole

_kuhscheiße - _bullshit

**Hungarian:**

_átok -_ damn

_hülye - _stupid

_Szarik, duma, fasz, fasz, fasz, fasz, kibaszott corset! - _Shit, crap, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking corset!

_Sajnálat - _I'm sorry

**French:**

_Mon ami - _My friend

_amoureux - _in love

_amour - _love

_Prusse_ - Prussia

_je ne sais quoi - _whatever (this sounds way more suggestive in French...)

'_ongrie - _Hungary (technically _Hongire_, but the whole H thing in French...)

_Belle femme_ - Beautiful woman

_Angleterre_ - England

_Pardon_ - sorry, though more like excuse me

_Autriche - _Austria

Sorry for using so much French... I think I just feel more confident that it's right... *headdesk*


	4. Story of the lock of golden hair

_Third and final Prussia one-shot! From Prussia's POV._

_**Chapter ****Summary**: Prussia's headaches have been getting worse each time the magic child casts a spell for him. He resolves that he will stop getting the help of the magic child, but when he gets his worst headache yet, is it already too late? Who will come to his aid, and what will the consequences of his wishes be? What will become of Hungary and himself?_

_Enjoy! And thanks for reading!_

* * *

Prussia sat in a grassy meadow filled with mismatched wildflowers, the mid-day sun setting the small pond sparkling. His head was bowed, his sapphire eyes closed, as Hungary kneeled behind him, cutting his golden hair with a small knife. It had grown a little too long and it fell into his eyes, Hungary complaining she couldn't see them.

Hungary had chosen breeches that day, wanting to go hunting, and Prussia didn't mind, it was one of the few chances she had to wear them now. Although the loose tunic hid her curves, Prussia knew he could still feel them when he embraced her. He shooed away such thoughts, and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, the searing headache raging behind his eyes.

It had only gotten steadily worse with each spell the magic child had cast, and Prussia had considered sending the child away the next he came. But he was more concerned with losing Hungary, his Lizzie, who had been spending more and more time with Austria. It worried him that maybe the spells weren't working anymore, and the headache was his warning.

Was Austria right? Had he been selfish? He refused to believe that; Hungary would choose him over the aristocrat anyways, wouldn't she? Angrily rubbing his sore eyes, Prussia decided that he would stop getting the magic child's help and prove it to his awesome self. If only it wasn't already too late.

Hungary was mumbling something to the German nation, but he didn't hear, his head spinning and pain shooting through it. What was wrong with him? A gentle breeze blew through the meadow and tiny locks of golden hair tangled in the grass around him.

He felt her careful touch on his back, and then worm its way down to his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck from behind. He could feel her weight on his shoulders as she leaned into him, her body pressing against his back, and he loved it. He wished he could dote on the feeling, but his thoughts kept getting interrupted by shooting pain.

"There, szerelem, that should be better," she whispered into his ear, slipping the handle of the knife into his hand. He held it loosely. "Let me see."

He could feel her move around to face him, but his face scrunched in pain as another shooting dart raced through his head. He brought the hand without the knife up to his temple, wishing the ache away.

"Gil, are you alright," she asked hesitantly, and he could feel her lips on his forehead. Not wanting to worry her, he opened his eyes and winced. It was too bright. She met his gaze and gasped.

"Gilbert, your eyes are all bloodshot," she said, and he could see the worry in her eyes. She held his head in her hands to get a better look, but he shooed them away.

"I'm fine, Lizzie," Prussia said dismissively, turning around, rubbing his temples. _F__ortgehen, Fortgehen__… _he thought. She came around to face him again.

"Really,Gil, if you're not well, we don't have to go," she started. "It's alright, really."

"I-I've just been rubbing my eyes a lot," Prussia quickly tried to find an explanation. "Not enough sleep or something not awesome like that. Let's just go kill something already, and I'll feel better."

"Whatever you say, Prussia," she replied, helping him up, using his nation name to show that she didn't believe him. She leaned down to pick up her bow and her arrows, and he brushed his fingers down her side. He could see her shiver slightly at the touch, his smirk cut across his face. When she stood, he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a quick kiss, the feeling making his headache melt.

When he broke away, she looked down to hide her blush, and leaned her head on his chest. Bringing up the knife behind her, he quickly cut a small curl of her copper hair.

"Hey!" she cried, slinging the weapons over her shoulder and pulling at the end of her hair to inspect the damage. He held out the lock of hair teasingly in his fingers, bringing it gently to his smirking lips before slipping it into his pocket. Hungary just glared back, reaching into her own pocket, and pulling out a lock of his golden hair. Smiling, she slipped it back into her pocket and ran into the forest, Prussia chasing after her, his white cape billowing out behind him heroically.

Later that afternoon, Prussia was sitting on a branch of a tree, leaning his head against the trunk, cursing his headache. Hungary was perched on a branch across from him, her bow strung with an arrow, waiting silently for an opportune moment. Her other small kills hung from her belt like a weird skirt, his only holding a single small rabbit, the most he had been able to catch with the knife all day.

Hungary's eagle eyes followed the path of a large rabbit nervously shuffling through the underbrush. But all Prussia could see between the shots of pain through his skull was the way his Lizzie's hair fluttered around her dirty face in the gentle forest breeze, her face masked in concentration. Her emerald eyes flicked as she followed the creature's movements, and sparkled when they caught the sun. She looked like a goddess.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice the rabbit that had jumped into the bush right beneath his branch, and would not have if it hadn't rustled the dry leaves around it. With a leap, he could land right on top of it. Silently preparing to jump, he waited for Hungary to shoot, so as not to scare off the other rabbit. With just a whisper of a _twang_ she loosed the arrow, and Prussia pounced down onto the unsuspecting rabbit below. There were a few startled squeals, and the forest was silent once more. He skinned the rabbit as she went to retrieve hers, attaching his kill to his belt next to the other.

"Enough awesome for one day?" Prussia asked when she approached him.

She smirked mischievously. "Not just yet, but let's head back to the meadow."

When they reached it, they threw their kills in a pile by the pond and stretched out on the grass, Prussia's headache less intense with his eyes closed. He was perfectly content simply knowing she lay next to him, the ends of her hair tickling his fingers. She moved, and he sighed, but then she did something he didn't expect.

Curling up next to him, she rested her head on his chest, and traced the pattern of his collarbone, then the curve of his muscles under his tunic with her fingers. Opening his eyes, Prussia looked down at her curiously, and her face looked worried. Closing his eyes again, he brought his hand up and gently stroked her side, as if he would remember the exact curve if he repeated the motion enough times.

He decided to ask about her concerning expression. "What is it?"

She looked up at him, and her careful fingers moved to trace his jaw, then his cheekbones, finally resting on the bridge of his nose.

"Your eyes," she began. "I think I like them best."

He smiled, and she giggled as she heard his heart race. But he knew her well enough to recognize the scared undertones in her voice.

"And these are the most awesome," he whispered, tracing her lips with his finger, then curling them in her hair, and finally touching her eyelashes. "But that's not what's bothering you, liebe."

She looked away for a second, propping herself up on his chest, aimlessly doodling with her finger along his collarbone. He closed his eyes again and moved his hand to stroke her back comfortingly. After what felt like forever, she spoke.

"Your headaches," she began, hesitantly. "You've been getting them for a while now, haven't you?"

Prussia didn't respond, just knitted his eyebrows as another shooting pain ripped through his head.

"Don't lie, I know you have," she continued. "Have you told anyone?"

Prussia considered her question carefully before replying. He couldn't tell her about the magic child. "I'm sure it's nothing, Lizzie. Like the awesome me said, just lack of sleep or something."

He opened his eyes to see her glaring at him. "Prussia, you're not just a person. What if something bad is going to happen to your people? Aren't you worried at all?"

He gently stroked her hair. "If it makes you feel better, I'll check on my awesome things when I get home. I'll even check on kleine Heilige Roma," he promised, pulling her into a hug.

"Kösz," she whispered, nestling her head into his neck, and resting her hand on his chest. He let himself melt into the feeling of her in his arms.

However the feeling was short lived as the pain in his head quickly became incessant.

"Scheiße," he swore.

"Mi?" Hungary asked quickly, sitting up to look at him properly. The pain was so bad, Prussia couldn't keep his face masked. He sat up and held his head in his hands, his face contorted in agony. Hungary rested her hand on his arm comfortingly. "Gil, how bad is it?"

"Heilige Scheiße, es ist schlecht, nicht EHRFÜRCHTIG!" Prussia screamed from between clenched teeth, not even bothering to translate.

Hungary pulled away slightly, her eyes wide. "Isten, Gilbert. Stay here, I'm going to get help." She stood quickly, and leaving everything behind, ran into the forest towards home as he screamed.

Curling into a ball, he held his head and let his screams release his pain. Between the shouts, he could hear birds fluttering away in alarm, and he heard the rustle of the underbrush and footsteps on the meadow grass. He prayed it was Lizzie with help, but instead a small set of hands tugged on his arm, trying to pull him up.

Though the pain demanded he keep his eyes glued shut, he fought instinct and opened them to see who it was. His eyes met the scared ocean blue eyes of the magic child, his pale blond hair ruffled awkwardly.

"Fick," Prussia swore, shutting his eyes again, but sitting up. "Make it stop."

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" the child muttered as he paced in front of Prussia. "I-I can't! This… this wasn't supposed to happen! Why does it always happen?"

"Mutter Gottes und alles, was heilig ist…" Prussia muttered under his breath. "WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!"

"I-I don't know, I don't get it," the child stammered.

"WELL DO SOMETHING AWESOME ALREADY! DON'T JUST STAND THERE!" Prussia screamed into the silent forest. Another set of footsteps approached, from the other side of the meadow.

"Where the bloody hell did you go, you little brat," the new voice muttered, vaguely familiar to Prussia, but he couldn't quite place the accent with the headache. "And who, in the name of God, is screaming bloody Mary! They're scaring all the damn creatures away."

There was a squeaking noise, and Prussia could feel the magic child trembling behind him. The German nation dug his fingernails into his skull, biting his tongue to keep from screaming, as the headache intensified again. Tears began to stream silently down his face and he could sense that someone was standing in front of him.

"There you are, you stupid git. And are you blooming mad! What the hell did you do this time?" the voice addressed the child.

"I-I-I don't know!" the magic child stuttered. "P-p-please don't hurt me! I-I-I messed up again, I'm sorry!"

"You can't keep doing this, child!" the voice yelled. "How many times have I told you to stop interfering with people's lives?"

Prussia could hear the voice sigh, and felt a hand on his arm.

"Alright then, mate, let's see the damage. Can you open your eyes?" the voice asked Prussia.

Hesitantly, he opened them too look into the glowing green eyes of a familiar face. But his eyes burned fiercely, and he quickly shut them again, but not before he saw the alarm on England's face.

"Arthur," Prussia forced out. "I hate you. But make it stop… _bitte_."

England raised his hand and stroked Prussia's head softly. "I'm sorry, Gilbert, but the damage is already done. It'll be over soon. But I'll see what I can do."

Prussia growled to try and relieve some of the pain and Prussia could sense England turning away to scold the child.

"You are in so much trouble, lad. You have no idea. Not even Papa will forgive you this time."

Prussia couldn't handle the pain anymore and he screamed.

"I'm sorry Daddy, please help him!" the child begged.

"I will. But you're grounded for an entire year, do you understand me?" England yelled. There was a pause and then England placed a hand on Prussia's forehead.

"I'm going to make it go away now, alright? Just relax." Prussia nodded and England whispered, "In susurri saltus ventus, ad somnum."

Everything faded and Prussia blacked out on the grass.

When Prussia finally awoke, his headache was mostly gone, just a dull throb in the back of his head. But if his memory served him correct, that was nothing compared to the headache he had before. He opened his eyes, which still stung a little, and realized he was lying on the floor of a dark room. His sword and other weapons sat in a pile in the corner, the only light flickering from under the bottom of a heavy wooden door. Patting himself down, Prussia realized he was still in one piece, his clothes worse for wear, still grass-stained and bloodied from hunting in the forest.

He sat up and his eyes shot to the door, from where he could hear the sliding of a heavy metal bolt. Instinctively, he inched over to his weapons in the corner and drew his sword from its sheath. With a _creek_, the door inched open and a candle poked through followed by a small, blond haired head with glowing green eyes, the flame from the candle lighting the nooks and crannies of the uneven walls.

"Oh, good, you're up," England whispered, entering the empty room with a bowl full of some kind of unidentifiable sludge. He handed it to Prussia, who took it and set it aside, regardless of how hungry he felt.

"What am I doing here," the German nation asked. "Where am I?"

"Sorry, mate, for keeping you here; it was the only place I could think of where the others wouldn't find you," England explained. "You're at my place. You were out cold when I found you, right you were. Just passed out in front of me, like the lads that spend too long at the pub."

"The awesome me wasn't drunk, if that's what you're thinking," Prussia said, his voice rough from disuse.

"I figured," England replied. "No one sleeps like they're dead for a week even if they're shit-faced. What the bloody hell happened? What do you remember?"

Prussia thought back and remembered it almost as clear as day.

"I was hunting with the awesome Lizzie," Prussia recalled. "Then we went back to the meadow and my headache got really, really bad, and verdammt, it was all because of that magic child."

England just looked at him curiously for a moment, as if unsure how to proceed.

"What is it, loser?" Prussia asked, although he wasn't sure if he really should be insulting England after he had sheltered him for a week.

"Gilbert, there's no way you could have been hunting with Erzsébet. She's been with Roderich ever since the banquet," England explained.

"No… she cut my hair this morning, see," Prussia fiddled with his hair to show it was shorter.

England just shook his head and couldn't look him in the eye. "There… there's something else you should see, mate."

The English nation handed Prussia a small hand mirror, which Prussia took and held up to look at himself. He almost passed out from shock at what he saw. Instead of looking back into sapphire blue orbs like he was used to, he starred into crimson depths. And his normally fiercely blond hair was as pale as winter snow.

"No…" Prussia breathed completely in disbelief.

"Don't panic, git," England spat. "It's completely normal, happens to all kinds of people. It's called _albino_."

"Mein Gott, that dumm magic child!" Prussia cursed.

"What's this magic child you keep going on about?" England asked.

"This kid who kept coming and performing witchcraft for the awesome me…" Prussia trailed. "You were there, Arthur, you yelled at him. It was your child. Since when did you have kids?"

"Bloody hell, I don't have kids, Gilbert," England explained. "I'm only a teenage nation, I don't even have underlings. And there was no one there but me when I found you. You must've had yourself a right fright, mate."

"No, I swear to God and all that is awesome, it happened!" Prussia exclaimed.

"Hush, you'll wake the rest of the house," England chided.

"Where's Lizzie?" Prussia asked solemnly, not looking England in the eye.

"What?" the English nation asked.

"Lizzie," Prussia repeated. "Hungary, where is she?"

"Oh," England said. "With Austria, like I said before."

"I want to see her," Prussia demanded, his voice monotone and cold.

"Alright, mate, if you say so," England said, standing up, and extending his hand to help the other nation up. "But be careful, you look a little…" England paused as if choosing his words carefully. "Well, frankly, you look a little alarming."

"I don't care," Prussia said as he stalked out of the room. "She's my best friend, and besides, she was there this morning, she went to get help when the headache worsened."

"I haven't seen or heard from her since, mate," England explained. "The only one who made a fuss was that Holy Rome character, and he only wanted to complain that no one was feeding him."

"Ungrateful arschloch," Prussia muttered under his breath. "What did you tell the brat?"

"Sent him to Feliciano and Romano," England said. "Figured that'd keep the tyke busy."

Prussia just nodded in agreement as England retrieved the saddles from the stable.

They rode quickly to the East and stopped outside Austria's house, tying the horses to one of the many trees on the grounds. As always, Prussia could hear music echoing from within.

"Before you go," England began as he dismounted and waited by the tree, Prussia already starting down the garden path. "I found this left where I found you."

England reached into his cloak and procured a small white box and with an eagle emblem on the side. "Danke," Prussia whispered, and left England by the tree.

Walking around the grounds, Prussia spotted his Lizzie, a familiar green gown flowing elegantly down the bench on which she was perched. Her hair was pinned back and brushed, free from leaves and twigs and other forest debris. Her back was straight and poised, her hands neatly folded in her lap, and Prussia wouldn't have recognized her if it wasn't for her emerald eyes that still sparkled with all the courage and ferocity that was Hungary. But Prussia's heart fell when he caught the air of sadness in them.

"Lizzie," Prussia said softly, letting the warm evening breeze carry his voice. She turned slowly to the sound of the voice, and her eyes widened in the alarm.

"Istenem!" Hungary cried, backing up slowly. "A-Austria!"

Austria quickly came running to her alarmed voice in gardens.

"Mein Gott," he breathed when he saw Prussia standing on the walkway.

"Lizzie," Prussia said slowly. "Es tut mir leid. I'm sorry."

Hungary just shook her head, fear plain on her face. Reaching behind her, she drew out her frying pan.

"Lizzie, please," Prussia begged.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Gilbert?" Hungary growled, suddenly angry. Austria trembled behind her but drew his sword.

"Hungary, Austria," Prussia said. "It's me, Prussia, I swear."

"Get out," Hungary cursed, and brought her frying pan down swiftly onto his skull. As he fell unconscious once more, the last thing he saw was his Lizzie crying in the arms of his hated rival, Austria.

* * *

**Translations** (sorry if I butcher anything, I have to rely on google translate and a little common sense)

_Scroll through for author's note at end_

**German**

Fortgehen - _Go away_

liebe - _love_

kleine Heilige Roma - _Little Holy Roma_

Scheiße - shit, crap

Heilige Scheiße, es ist schlecht, nicht EHRFÜRCHTIG - _Holy shit, it's bad, not AWESOME_

Fick - _Fuck_

Mutter Gottes und alles, was heilig ist - _Mother of God, and all that is Holy_

Bitte - _Please_

verdammt - _damn_

arschloch - _asshole_

Danke - _thanks_

Mein Gott - _My God_

Es tut mir leid - _I'm sorry_

**Hungarian**

Szerelem - _love_

Kösz - _Thanks_

Mi - _What_

Isten - _God_

Istenem - _Dear God_

* * *

**Author's Note**

So that's it guys! I hope you enjoyed them. They're part of a larger story, so sorry if the ending is a little fragmented. Keep an eye out, there should be more one-shots coming out soon for different pairings. And I'm thinking of doing another PruHun/AusHun from Hungary's perspective.

Reviews are love! Let me know what you think and how I can improve! It will only make the next ones better!

3 Thanks for reading!


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